“Yes, it is true: Daisy Buchanan and Jay Gatsby disappeared the night of the murder of Myrtle Wilson. The same night, Tom Buchanan and George Wilson were found dead. It seems incontrovertible that the murders were all linked, however, no murderer has been taken into custody at this time. That is all the information we have currently.”
The detective on the case had finally released a statement in the paper a week after the murders.
Rumors had already started going around about Gatsby and Daisy’s whereabouts, and they seemed wilder than ever, including that they themselves were dead.
I had been asked for questioning and to attend the inquisition. At the latter, Catherine, Myrtle’s sister, was a called to the stand and explained that George and Myrtle’s relationship was very strained. It seemed unlikely, however, that she found out about her affair with Tom.
Two murders, three murderers, two lovers,
one Carraway. The police had tirelessly been searching for Daisy and Gatsby. By now, they were probably miles away having the time of their lives. I stayed in Gatsby’s house for a few days and “ I spent my Saturday nights in New York, because those gleaming,
dazzling parties of his were with me so vividly that I could still hear the music and laughter, faint and incessant, from his garden, and the cars going up and down his drive.” (p 178)
“On my last night, with my trunk packed and my car sold to the grocer, I went over and looked at that huge incoherent of a house once more.” (p 179) I was glad to leave it. I was glad to go back home to the place I was used to.
The Midwest was where I fit in. 
